The Reckoning
by Charlie 5
Summary: What should have happened to Peter and Assumpta


Assumpta moved off in the direction of the kitchen. She wasn't in the least bit surprised to hear that everyone had cheated in the competition - the village was full of chancers.  
"Assumpta . . . have you got a minute?"  
She turned to see Peter edging his way through the crowd to the far end of the bar.  
"Sure," she replied and went over to him He leaned across the bar, his face close to hers.  
"I love you," he said.  
Assumpta flushed, pleased. "Would you take that thing off before you say things like that," she said, gesturing to his dog collar.  
Peter beamed. "I can't help it."  
"I know." She smiled at him but her expression changed as the lights flickered and went out . . . again.  
"I'll go," called Padraig. Assumpta turned to him. "Thanks," she said, "I seem to have spent the last week down in that cellar. Maybe you'll have more luck." She stood at the top of the cellar steps as Padraig fiddled with the fusebox. "Any joy?" she called down. After a moment, he emerged looking slightly dusty.  
"It's no good," he said. "It's had it. Fred Flintstone must have had that wiring put in and there's nothing I can do with it. You'll need the place re-wired."  
Assumpta cast her eyes up to heaven. "Oh, great," she said. "And how much is that going to cost?"  
"Dunno. I'll get a pal of mine to do you an estimate. He'll do you a good deal. Nothing you can do about it tonight though - it's candlelight or close the bar."  
"Looks like last orders then," said Brendan turning to Padraig and Siobhan. "How about we finish this off at your place, Padraig."  
"Sounds good," he replied. "Goodnight Assumpta."  
One by one the regulars filed out of the bar until Peter and Assumpta were left on their own, surveying the clutter of empty glasses and full ash trays that surrounded them.  
"Do you want to wash or dry?" asked Peter, putting on a pair of Marigolds. Assumpta moved to the other side of the bar and began bringing glasses over, piling them on the bar.  
"Thanks Peter, you don't have to do this. I'm well used to clearing up after that lot.."  
"It's all right, I'm just getting some training in. After all, if I'm no good at the job, you're not going to employ me, are you?"  
Assumpta grinned. "I'm not going to employ you anyway."  
"What? But you said . . ."  
"Peter, don't be silly," her face grew serious. "You have a Cambridge degree, you can't spent your life working behind a bar. It would be such a waste. You can help out here if you want while you sort yourself out but there's so much more that you can do with your life. You should take all the opportunities that you can get."  
Peter watched her, surprised at the conviction in her voice. "You're here," he said quietly.  
"I know, I'm stuck and that's why I don't want you to be."  
"So leave, sell up."  
"I can't." She stopped and looked at him. "This pub is about the nearest thing I have to a family. I've tried to sell it in the past - when I graduated I was going to follow Leo to London, but I just couldn't do it. So here I am, still. And, unless the residents of BallyK drive me out then it's here I'll stay."  
Peter opened his mouth to comment but Assumpta had started to wipe the tables and obviously didn't want to talk about it any more.  
For the next fifteen minutes they worked in companionable silence and soon the bar was ready for the next day.  
"I'm glad that's done," Assumpta said. "I dread getting up in the morning, knowing that it's all down here waiting for me."  
Peter shuffled nervously. At the mention of the morning, he suddenly had a feeling that he had a momentous decision ahead of him in the next few minutes. "It's getting late . . . " he began. "I suppose I'd better be off."  
Assumpta took a deep breath. "D'you want to stay for a while?" As soon as the words were out, Assumpta realised how it sounded. Peter swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. She didn't miss the hesitation. "It's okay Peter," she added hurriedly. "I'm not suggesting that we . . . I just want to spend some time with you . . . that's all."

Later that night, Peter sat on the sofa by the fire He stared blankly into the flames, hypnotised by their activity, his mind wandering.  
"Peter . . . ?" Assumpta was standing behind him, holding two mugs of coffee. She handed one to him and sat beside him. For a moment she watched him, trying to read his thoughts. "Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine. I just can't believe I'm here . . . with you."  
"Ah well now Peter. You see what you can achieve when you stop letting the church make your decisions for you . . . . " She stopped. "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless."  
"No . . . you're right. I should have thought more about what I wanted, not what other people expected me to do."  
"So where do we go from here?"  
Peter pulled her closer to him. "Well, the first step is to tell Fr Mac what I've finally decided. I mean, he knows I was on the verge of a decision, but not the final outcome. Once I've done that, I'll be homeless and penniless and that's when the problems will really start."  
"You can stay here."  
Peter shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. I'll sort something out."  
"I'm only offering you a guest room not nights of passion . . . yet."  
He smiled. "I know. I just think it'll be easier for people round here to accept it if they see that we're doing this properly."  
Assumpta was confused. "It's none of their business what we do. We're going to be together, why delay things?"  
"We want to stay in BallyK, don't we? We don't want people against us before we've started. It's best to ease them into the idea slowly. That way, there's more chance of them being on our side and giving us a bit of support."  
"God!" said Assumpta.  
"What?"  
"Are you always going to be this reasonable? I really don't think I can stand it."  
Peter grinned. "You don't have a choice now. I'm here for keeps, like it or not!" He waited for the inevitable sarcastic reply but there was only silence. "What?"  
Assumpta pulled away slightly so that she could look at him properly. "Nothing, it's just . . . . I was wondering . . . . why you became a priest in the first place?"  
Peter thought for a minute, not sure how to put his feelings for the church into words. "It was the one thing that I always knew I wanted, ever since I was about 11 or 12. The church was a massive part of my life and I wanted to be a part of it, to give something back to God." He stopped. "I suppose that doesn't make much sense to you."  
"I might not be over enamoured with the clergy, but I am still a Catholic you know," she replied. "I can remember what it is like to be inside a church. The only difference is, that I never really felt that there was anything there for me. You're lucky."  
"Am I? Look at all of the things I've missed out on."  
"And are you sure this is the right decision for you? You've given so much up for me."  
Peter shook his head. "But that's just it. I haven't given anything up. With the priesthood, it's that and nothing else. This way, I can have you and still be a part of the church, only it's on my terms not theirs." He reached out and touched her hair, stroking it gently. "I love you."  
"I love you too." He bent his head to kiss her and she responded. After a few moments she pulled away. "I . . . think it should be goodnight." Peter nodded. "You're right. We need to take a little time before . . . " He gently kissed the top of her head, then stood up to go.  
"Goodnight."

First thing the next morning, Peter made his way up to the parochial house in Cilldargan. He felt unreasonably nervous, after all, Fr Mac could hardly be surprised by what he was about to hear but it still felt like a momentous announcement to Peter. But, it had to be done - last night had finally convinced him of that. Even just spending time with Assumpta, on their own, with no one and nothing else to get in the way had made him feel like a different man. He took a deep breath. In a matter of minutes, he would be a free man and, now that he had made that final decision, it couldn't come soon enough. As he put up his hand to knock on the door, it opened suddenly and Fr Mac appeared, dressed to go out.  
"Father Clifford?"  
"I'm sorry Father, were you going out?"  
The elder man looked at his watch. "Well, I . . . " He registered the look on Peter's face. "I take it that this unexpected visit concerns your decision?" Peter nodded. "Well, in that case, you'd better come in."  
Peter followed Fr Mac into the study where he was shown to a seat. Fr Mac sat behind his desk as usual, trying to look as stern as possible. "So, I take it you'll be leaving us."  
"I'm sorry, I know you think I'm doing the wrong thing." For some reason, Peter felt as if he had to apologise for his actions. Father Mac shook his head.  
"We're losing a good priest, I'm sorry about that." He looked squarely at Peter. "You were a good priest. You know that, don't you?"  
Peter nodded. "I . . . felt as if I was doing some good."  
"People in this town liked you. You do realise that they might not be so understanding about this."  
"It's a chance we'll have to take. I know I've made the right decision for me and I have to think of myself for once. . . I love her."  
Fr Mac softened slightly. "Yes . . . I'm sure you do." He cleared his throat, becoming businesslike. "Well, as you've finally made this decision, there are a few things we have to sort out. I'll have to arrange for you to see the Bishop. He'll try to talk you out of it, of course, but I think you're too far gone for that. He will have to give his blessing for you to be released from the priesthood, but you are relieved of your duties as of now."  
Peter swallowed hard. "Right."  
"It shouldn't take too long. A couple of weeks maybe."  
Peter nodded. "Thank you."  
"Well, I can't pretend I'm not disappointed, but it's the way of things these days. Where are you going to live?  
"I'll think of something. There has to be somewhere round here with a spare room to let."  
"You're not staying at Fitzgerald's?" Fr Mac seemed surprised.  
"No, we didn't think that was a good idea just yet. We want to take things slowly, make sure that we know exactly what we're doing. I will be working there though."  
Fr Mac raised his eyebrows. "Well, I wish you every success in your new career . . . and your new life." He stood up. "Good luck," he said, offering his hand to Peter.  
"Thank you."  
"I'll let you know when I arrange an appointment for you." He showed Peter to the door and stood in the doorway as he watched the young man walk along the driveway to his car.

Back at the pub, Assumpta was making yet another mug of tea for Noel Quinn, the friend of Padraig's who was down in the cellar sorting out her fusebox. Workmen were a pain, but today he was the least of her worries. She was a nervous wreck, wondering how Peter was getting on with Fr Mac.  
She tried to calm herself. They had talked about what he was going to say, it was just a formality. But, before he had left that morning, she had told Peter that he had to make whatever decision was right for him. If that meant staying in the priesthood, then that's what he had to do. When it came down to it, she didn't want him to ruin his life for her, but as time marched on and there was no sign of him, she began to worry that maybe he had decided to stay and couldn't face telling her.  
"Ooh God!" she exclaimed as the milk jug slipped from her fingers and smashed on the hard tiled floor.  
"Butterfingers," said a voice from the doorway. Assumpta looked up to see Peter grinning broadly. "What have you got against that jug?"  
Assumpta abandoned the tea and picked her way over to him. "I thought you were never coming back . . . "  
Peter silenced her with a kiss. "Where else do you think I would go?" He put his arms round her waist and held her tightly to him.  
"I thought . . . " she started.  
"It's fine," he reassured her. "It's all going to be fine." For a moment they hugged, Peter closed his eyes and decided once and for all that he had definitely done the right thing.  
"So what happened?" Assumpta pulled away slightly, looking worried. "Well, I told him I was off. He reminded me that the Bishop had to be told, but that he didn't foresee any problems with him, and he released me of my duties there and then. Can I have a job?"  
Assumpta smiled. "I'll think about it." Peter gently touched her cheek. "I love you," he said softly.  
Assumpta's heart skipped a beat. She didn't think she would ever get used to hearing him say that. "I love you too," she replied. Peter pulled her closer to him and for a long moment they kissed.  
"Erm . . . . is this my tea?"  
They broke apart to see Noel standing by the sink holding the mug questioningly. "Sorry," he grinned, "but it's thirsty work down there. Any milk?"  
Assumpta smiled sarcastically and went to the fridge for a new carton. "How is it looking?" she asked.  
"All done. I've had to fit a whole new box. How long'd it been playing you up?"  
"A week or so."  
"And you're after trying to fix it yourself?"  
"Well, just a bit. I didn't realise it was that serious."  
Noel winked at her. "Well, you must have the Gods on your side. It's a miracle you didn't get yourself electrocuted - that fusebox of yours was an accident waiting to happen One wrong connection and it would have killed someone.." He started to pack up his tools. "Anyway, it's working a treat now. You shouldn't have any more problems with it." He nodded at Peter. "Bye so," Peter smiled as Assumpta followed Noel out to the bar to sort out his money.  
He had just about finished clearing away the broken jug when Assumpta stuck her head back round the kitchen door.  
"Well?"  
Peter frowned. "Well what?"  
"It's 11 o'clock. Are you going to open up or what?"  
He grinned. "Coming boss." He stood up and took a deep breath. "Time to roll . . .. " he said to himself.

By lunch time the bar was heaving. The hot weather had brought everyone out of the woodwork for a liquid lunch and Peter was rushed off his feet. His presence in the bar had caused a few raised eyebrows, but Assumpta had managed to fend off the questions skilfully and no one suspected anything other than that Peter was lending a hand to a friend in need.  
"Another pint there Father," called Brendan. He watched Peter closely.  
"I think we can drop the 'Father' bit while I'm here," said Peter.  
"Is this a permanent change of title?" asked Brendan.  
Peter stared. Suddenly he realised that Brendan knew. "Can we have a chat when I've finished here?"  
Brendan nodded gravely. "I think we should."

Later that afternoon, Peter stood with Brendan on the bank of the river Angel. Brendan was thinking hard.  
"But why?"  
Peter looked at him, amazed. "Why do you think?"  
"No, I mean, why now? You've coped with how you feel for three years. What changed?"  
"I did." Peter concentrated on the water, trying to organise his thoughts. "I don't know . . . . my mother's death . . . Assumpta marrying Leo . . . life's too short to be unhappy. I love her. I want to be with her. It's as simple as that."  
Brendan nodded. "You may have a point. Assumpta certainly seems happier than I've ever seen her, and God knows she deserves a change of luck." He pulled his rod out of the water and examined it thoughtfully. "You do know that there are a lot of people in this town who care a great deal about Assumpta, even if she doesn't realise it?"  
"So?"  
"So, you won't be very popular if you cause her even more trouble and then let her down. It's the last thing she needs."  
"I know that. I don't intend to let her down."  
"Good. That's the main thing. You've told Fr Mac?"  
"Yep, he's sorting it all out with the Bishop. As of this morning I'm jobless and homeless."  
Brendan was surprised. "Aren't you staying with her ladyship?"  
Peter shook his head. "Not yet."  
"Well Peter, there's a spare bed at my place if you need it."  
"Seriously? It would solve a problem."  
"It's yours. Move in as soon as you want. I hope you're feeling brave . . ."  
Peter looked at him questioningly.  
" . . . because you have got some battle ahead of you two."  
Peter nodded. "Don't worry, we know."

That evening, Niamh came into Fitzgerald's and sat herself down at the bar. "Glass of lager please Assumpta."  
"Coming up." Assumpta put the glass down in front of her friend who took it up and swallowed half of it in one gulp. She banged the glass down onto the bar and glanced at Assumpta who was patiently waiting with interest for the inevitable explosion.  
"How's Peter coping?" Niamh asked finally.  
Assumpta felt her blood run cold. "Coping with what? she said cautiously.  
"My father, kicking him out again. That man, I swear. He has no principals whatsoever. I don't know what he's at this time and I don't want to know, but making that poor man homeless again . . . "  
Assumpta was confused now. "What makes you think he's been kicked out?"  
"I went up to the house to check on a few last minute arrangements for Saturday fortnight . . . "  
"Saturday fortnight?"  
"Kieran's Christening. Some Godmother you're going to make if you can't even remember to turn up."  
Assumpta froze. Peter had been released from his duties, which meant he wouldn't be conducting Kieran's Christening as Niamh had insisted. "Oh my good God . . . " she said.  
"What?"  
Assumpta looked around the bar. "Siobhan," she called. "Would you ever keep an eye on the till for me?"  
"Sure." Siobhan looked puzzled but the look on Assumpta's face silenced her. Something was up, that was for sure.  
Assumpta smiled faintly. "Thanks." She gestured to Niamh. "We'd better have a chat."  
In the kitchen, Niamh sat at the table with and watched as Assumpta made two mugs of coffee and brought them to the table.  
"What's going on?" she asked her. "Something's up."  
Assumpta took a deep breath. "Em, Peter won't actually be able to conduct the Christening . . . "  
"What are you talking about? It's all set!"  
"Things have changed . . . " Assumpta felt sick. Of all the people in the village, Niamh was the one she most dreaded telling. She could be a bit puritanical at times and this wasn't exactly the best of times to tell her.  
"Assumpta, what's happened?"  
"He's . . . he's left the priesthood. He can't take the Christening."  
"Left the priesthood?" Niamh was shocked. "Has he been sacked?"  
"No!" said Assumpta defensively. "He's . . . "  
"My God," said Niamh, realisation dawning. "He's left because of you, hasn't he?"  
Assumpta nodded.  
"I don't believe it. I just don't believe that the two of you would do something like that!" She stood up from the table her back to Assumpta, then spun round to face her. "You're married!"  
"I know that."  
Niamh laughed bitterly. "And when were you planning to tell your husband?"  
"I haven't thought about that yet."  
"Don't you think you should, before you start seducing priests."  
Immediately, Niamh regretted that remark, but it was too late. Assumpta was in tears. "That's not fair," she said quietly. "It's not like that."  
Niamh sat down again and took her friend's hand. "I thought, when you married Leo, that you had got over Peter."  
Assumpta shook her head. "I married Leo to get over Peter."  
"Assumpta . . . "  
"I can't help it. That's the way it is. I love him . . . he loves me."  
"He must." She paused, trying to think straight. "Has he told Father Mac yet?"  
"Yes, that's why he's no longer up at the church . . . why he's staying with Brendan."  
"Not here?"  
"No . . . why does everyone think . . . ?"  
Niamh sighed. "Well, that's something, I suppose." She shook her head. "What a mess."  
"I know," Assumpta nodded, "but I'm happy, Niamh. For once in my life, I'm really happy."  
"You don't look it." Niamh had recovered from her shock and was starting to feel concerned. "Are you sure this is what you want?"  
"I've never wanted anything more in my whole life. I've spent three years, trying to put him out of my mind, trying to deal with the fact that I couldn't have the one person I have ever really wanted. Now he wants me as much as I want him and we're going to be together."  
Niamh held up her hands in surrender. "All right, I'm convinced. I'm not happy about it, but it was only a matter of time. I can't say the same about everyone else round here though. You're not going to be popular."  
"So what's new? Kathleen and Fr Mac will hate me even more, I think I can cope with that."  
"Niamh! I think your son would like a word . . ." Ambrose's voice came through the bar.  
"I take it you don't want this to go any further?" Niamh stood up to go. "Look . . . I am happy for you, really. It's just . . . it's going to be hard for you both. You never choose the easy option, do you?"  
Assumpta shrugged. "Why be dull?"  
"I'd better get on. My son will be wanting his tea. I'll talk to you again."  
Assumpta got up to follow her out. "Bye." She watched Niamh as she said goodnight to the cronies at the bar. "One down, the rest of the village to go," she said to herself.

Peter came out of the kitchen and handed Assumpta a mug. "Tired?" he asked, collapsing onto the chair beside her.  
"Shattered. You must be too."  
Peter looked around the darkened bar. "I don't know how you ever did this on your own. No wonder you were so snippy."  
Assumpta stared at him, trying not to laugh. "Snippy?" she repeated. "There's only one person to blame for my mood swings, and he's sitting beside me."  
"So how do you explain the fights before I came?"  
She thought for a second. " . . . Father Mac." She leaned back against him, snuggling against his chest. "Niamh knows."  
Peter nodded. "I thought you looked a bit battle weary. How did she take it?"  
"As I'd expected. She gave out about Leo, then calmed down. She was just a bit shocked, but she's okay now. Don't now who's going to do the Christening though."  
Peter froze. " . . . I'd forgotten."  
"So had I. I'm sorry, I know you wanted to do that."  
"Too late now. Anyway, I suppose, on balance, it's worth it." He placed his mug down on the table and wrapped his arms round her neck. "Happy?" "What do you think? I still can't quite believe it" She looked up at him and smiled. "You?"  
He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. "Completely. I can't believe I ever thought I could live without you. I must have been mad."  
"Close, you were a priest!"  
"Yeah, all right!"  
Assumpta took his hands in hers, growing suddenly serious. "So, what now?"  
"Well, in a few days I go to see the Bishop which will clear up things from my end. Then we have to think about Leo. When are you going to talk to him?"  
"I don't know. It's going to be horrible. I hate myself for what I did to him. He didn't deserve that."  
"You didn't mean to hurt him though."  
"Doesn't matter. I still did. He's a good man. I care about him a great deal. I shouldn't have used him. I suppose I'll have to tell him the truth, I just don't want to make it any worse for him than it already is. Anyway . . . " Assumpta untangled herself from Peter's arms and stood up. " . . . I am exhausted and so are you. So, I'm going to bed and I think you should go home and get some sleep too."  
She pulled him up from the chair and led him towards the door. "Go on, out you go. Goodnight," she said.  
Peter laughed. "Oh, you want me to leave then, do you?"  
"Correct, bye-bye." She opened the door and pushed him out. "See ya."  
Peter stopped in the doorway and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. "I love you."  
"I love you too." She looked at him intensely then pulled away, grinning. "Bye then."  
Peter shook his head and walked towards his car, still laughing.  
Assumpta closed the doors and stood at the window, watching him drive off. Long after the red Fiesta had disappeared over the bridge, she remained standing at the window staring at the space where it had been.

Across the road, Niamh was watching this from her bedroom window. She had seen the laughter, the kiss and the exchange of tender words and she was touched.  
"What are you staring at?" Ambrose was trying to amuse Kieran who had absolutely no intention of going to sleep, despite the lateness of the hour.  
"Assumpta. I was just wondering how she is."  
"She seems okay to me. Why shouldn't she be?"  
Niamh pulled back the covers and got into the bed, taking Kieran from Ambrose. "Because she's having an affair with Peter."  
Ambrose sat up straight. "Fr Clifford? Assumpta is having an affair with the curate?"  
She shook her head. "Well, no. That's not really fair. It's more than that. He's left the church for her."  
"Are you sure?"  
"She told me this afternoon. He's staying at Brendan's place. I don't know Ambrose. That girl always seems to make trouble for herself. She has a talent for it."  
Ambrose made a face at the baby. "Well, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it, Love? The whole village must know how they feel about each other."  
"But they don't know anything for sure. It's best we keep it that way, until they've sorted themselves out at least."  
"What about Leo? Does he know?"  
Niamh shook her head. "Not yet. Lord knows what Assumpta is going to say to him. He'll be devastated. He really loves her." She got up from the bed and walked into the next room, to place the finally sleepy Kieran in his cot.  
Ambrose was thoughtful. "He's her husband. He should be told now, before things get out of hand."  
Niamh came back into the room and switched off the lamp, pulling up the duvet over her. "Yes, but it's not our place to tell him."  
"No . . . ."  
She leaned over and kissed him. "Night Ambrose."  
"Goodnight Love," said Ambrose absently.

Peter cleared his throat again and stared at the door beside him. Fr Mac was on the other side of that door, discussing him and Assumpta with the Bishop. It was over half an hour now and Peter had long since given up trying to hear what was being said. He'd find out soon enough. He put his hand in his pocket and brought out the little velvet-covered box that had been burning a hole in his pocket since early that morning. He smiled to himself, thinking what his mother would have to say if she knew what he had spent a chunk of his inheritance on. He opened the lid of the box and stared again at the diamond ring that nestled inside. He had never in his life bought jewellery for anyone, never mind something as important as an engagement ring. Would she like it, he wondered for the hundredth time. He had chosen a very classical style and Assumpta would probably go for something a bit different. He snapped the lid of the box shut. She could always change it, he reasoned. She might not even say yes . . . Suddenly he felt nervous. What would he do if she . . .?  
The door beside him opened and Fr Mac came out. "He's ready to see you now." He patted Peter on the shoulder. "Good luck."  
"Thanks." Peter nodded nervously and went inside.  
Bishop Costello was sitting in a large chair behind a desk. He smiled broadly as Peter approached. "Ah, Peter. Do sit down." He gestured to a chair. "Would you like tea, coffee?"  
"No thanks."  
"Right, let's get this sorted out. I've spoken to Fr MacAnally. He seems convinced that you have made up your mind to leave us."  
"Yes."  
"So, there's no point in me giving you the speech, is there? Are you sure about your feelings for this girl?"  
Peter nodded. That was one thing he was certain of. "Absolutely," he said.  
"And what happens if you are wrong?"  
"I'm not."  
"What if she's wrong? What if she decides . . ."  
Peter was growing slightly angry. "Your Grace . . ."  
"Please, let me finish. I'm not trying to change your mind. I just want to make sure that you have thought about all of the options. You are giving up your vocation for this girl. What happens if the relationship doesn't work? You will have given up everything and gained nothing. What will happen then?"  
"That won't happen," said Peter. "This is different. I've met women before that I've liked a lot. I even left England because of one of them. If I didn't feel so strongly about Assumpta, I would have left Ballykissangel years ago. I couldn't leave her. I've spent the last three years trying to sort this out in my head. It's not a rash decision."  
"I'm glad to hear it." Bishop Costello smiled again and called through to his housekeeper to send in Fr Mac. In a minute, the door opened and Fr Mac came in and sat down.  
"Well . . . ?"  
Bishop Costello looked to Fr Mac, then back to Peter. "It seems very clear-cut. There's obviously nothing I can say to persuade you to stay?"  
"No."  
"Then it's just a matter of officially releasing you from your duties. I trust you have accommodation etc. sorted out?"  
"I have. There's no problem there."  
The Bishop stood up. "Well, that's it." He shook Peter's hand. "We're sorry to lose you, but I really hope that things work out for you. And remember, the church will always be here for you, if you ever need it."  
"Thank you. Goodbye."  
Peter left the room and waited outside the door for Fr Mac. They walked together back to their cars. Fr Mac turned to face him.  
"Well, good luck Peter."  
"Thanks."  
"You are bound to feel strange, as if you are on your own . . . but we are here for you . . . if you need us."  
Peter nodded thoughtfully. "Goodbye Father." With a last look back at the church, he got into his car and drove back to Ballykissangel and his new life.

The Dublin traffic was worse than ever, even for a Friday. Leo drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel and glared ahead, trying to concentrate on the road and not on what was going round and round in circles in his head. The stupid thing was, he had known. He had known all along what was really happening with Assumpta but he had ignored it. She had loved him once, he knew that. At university they were inseparable.

He thought back to their time at university. For two years, they had shared a flat in Dublin. They had made plans for the future, shared everything - they had even talked about getting married back then. He had been offered a job in London and Assumpta was going to go with him. She wanted to continue to study over there and, with a first class degree from one of the best universities in Ireland, she could have done anything. But it had all gone wrong. Her mother had died, leaving her alone with her only family on the other side of the country. Responsibility for the bar had fallen to her and suddenly, she abandoned her dreams and gave in to spending the rest of her life in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. Well, that was how he saw it anyway. Ballykissangel was charming, a great place for a little holiday, but Assumpta was too spirited for it. That was why she was frustrated. And that was why he had known, when he first asked her to leave and come back to London with him, that there was something more than home-ties keeping her there.

Leo was angry again. He slapped his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. Peter Clifford, the man behind all of the trouble. How Assumpta had ever managed to get involved with him was beyond Leo. The man was English and a priest, two things that Assumpta was none too fond of. What was the attraction? He just couldn't understand it.  
As he drove, he tried to think of ways, anything he could do to get her back. They had a history together, she had loved him once and could love him again. She must have felt something for him to have married him in the first place, there had to be a way. He drove towards the Wicklow mountains, catching sight of the magnificent Sugar Loaf in the distance. Okay, he thought. So Assumpta obviously wasn't as keen to leave BallyK as she once had been. So, he would make an effort to settle there. If he still worked in Dublin he could manage it well enough. The only obstacle was Fr Clifford. But, once the Priest realised that Assumpta wasn't going to leave Leo, surely he would go back to England in defeat? Then Leo and Assumpta could try to build a life together as they had hoped to years ago. He had to get her back.

"Assumpta!" called Peter up the stairs.  
"Uh-huh?"  
"Kettle's on. Half an hour of peace and quiet before the evening rush starts!"  
Assumpta came down the stairs. "You're beginning to sound like me," she said, smiling. Peter handed her a cup and they sat down at the kitchen table. Assumpta reached for a biscuit and absently started to break it into tiny pieces.  
"You haven't said much about what happened today . . . " she said finally.  
"There's not much to tell. Fr Mac had a chat with the Bishop, then I did, then he told me I was officially released and wished me luck."  
"And that's it?"  
"That's it."  
"How do you feel about it?"  
Peter stirred his tea. "It feels strange, like I'm on my own . . . "  
"But you're not, not anymore."  
"I know that. I can't really explain . . . it's like my suit of armour has gone and I don't have any protection from anything. It's all down to me now."  
Assumpta got up from her chair and went round to stand behind him, draping her arms around his shoulders. "You don't regret it though?" She was almost afraid to ask.  
"No chance. We should have done this years ago."  
Assumpta ruffled his hair. "Well, I did try to tell you . . . " She went over to the sideboard and picked up a set of keys. "While I think about it . . . you'd better have these."  
Peter took them and put them in his pocket. Now he could come and go as he pleased - everything really was up to him now . . .

Leo tried to catch some of the view as he drove. The city had been well and truly left behind and he was now on mountainous country roads. The hills and lakes were breathtaking and they had a curious relaxing effect. By the time he reached the Bridge into BallyK, Leo was calm and confident that he could sort this mess out.  
He pulled the car off the road and stopped outside Fitzgerald's smiling at the cheery yellow and blue paint work.  
"Leo?"  
He turned to see Niamh coming out of her house across the road with Kieran in her arms.  
"How ya Niamh. And the little fella - God, he's grown. What are you feeding him on?"  
Niamh looked upset. "What are you doing here?"  
Leo glanced toward the pub. "I've come to try to salvage my marriage."  
"It's not going to be that easy, Leo."  
Leo nodded. "Oh, I know what's been happening."  
Niamh was surprised. "You've heard from Assumpta?"  
"No, your husband. Ambrose thought I should know what was going on, so he called me. It's a good job he did." He smiled at Kieran and patted Niamh's shoulder, heading off towards the pub. "I'll see you later, Niamh."  
"Yeah, bye," said Niamh quietly.

Peter watched as Assumpta gathered the mugs and plates from the table and put them into the sink. He took a couple of deep breaths and decided it was time for action. If he didn't ask her now, then the suspense would kill him. He stood up and went over to her.  
"Assumpta . . . there was just something I wanted to . . . "  
"Peter?" She looked at him, concerned - he was suddenly pale and looked nervous. "Are you all right?"  
"I'm fine, it's just . . . there's something I wanted to ask."  
"What?"  
Peter took her hands in his and held them tightly. "I know it's taken a long time to sort ourselves out . . . and I know, what with Leo and everything, that it's not over yet, but . . . I love you, more than anything else in the world. Will you marry me?"  
Assumpta's jaw dropped. She genuinely hadn't expected this so soon.  
Peter noted her shocked expression. "I understand if it's too soon to think about it . . . I just wanted . . . "  
Assumpta cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently, silencing him. "Yes," she said. "Of course I'll marry you."  
Peter's face broke into a wide smile, a mixture of happiness and relief that he had finally found the courage to ask her. He reached into his pocket and brought out the little box. "Could I interest you in this?" He opened the lid and took out the ring, placing it on Assumpta's finger. Assumpta stared at it, overcome.  
"Peter . . . where on earth did you . . . " She shook her head, fighting back the tears. "You shouldn't have done this. It wasn't necessary . . . ."  
"It was. I want you to have everything . . . whatever you want." He pulled her to him tightly and kissed her.  
As they embraced, Leo watched from the other side of the bar. He had been there long enough to witness the proposal and now, all of his new found confidence had vanished. Suddenly he felt that there was no way he could fight this. He cleared his throat.  
"Can anyone get a drink around here?"  
Assumpta pulled back from Peter. "Leo!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"  
"Ah, you know, was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd pay my wife a visit." He looked pointedly at Peter. "Father."  
Peter nodded. "Leo." He felt awkward, as if he had been brought back down to earth with a crash. The woman of his dreams had just agreed to marry him, and in walks her husband.  
"If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my wife."  
"Of course." Peter looked at Assumpta. She looked pale, but calm.  
"Okay?" he asked.  
She nodded. "I'll see you later," she said.  
Assumpta poured a couple of brandies and led Leo over to the chairs by the fireplace. "How long have you been here?"  
"Long enough." He swallowed his drink and took out a cigarette, flinging the packet onto the table. Assumpta reached forward and took one, waiting for a light.  
"You haven't smoked in years." said Leo, holding out the lighter.  
"Yeah, well I think I've just started again." She took a puff and sat back in the chair. "Why have you come? I thought we'd said all we have to say."  
"I had a phone call. Someone thought I should know what was going on."  
"Niamh?"  
"Close, Ambrose." Leo laughed bitterly. "You know, I came here with every intention of getting you back, persuading you that we could be happy together." He shook his head. "That's not going to happen, Is it?"  
Assumpta couldn't look at him. "No."  
"You really love him, don't you?"  
"Yes, I do."  
"Why?" Leo watched her carefully. She looked suddenly tired.  
"I don't know. It's not something I can explain."  
"This has been going on for years, hasn't it?" He took a drag of his cigarette. He didn't want to ask the next question, fearing that he already knew what the answer was and knowing that he wouldn't like it. "And when you married me?"  
"Leo . . . " She was crying now. Leo hated to see her upset, but he couldn't stop himself.  
"I need to know. You didn't love me, did you?"  
Assumpta looked up. "That's not true. I did . . . do love you."  
"But weren't in love with me."  
"Not then, no. But that doesn't mean I didn't care about you . . . "  
"It's not quite the same thing though." Leo leaned back and closed his eyes. He knew for sure now that it was over. "You want a divorce?"  
Assumpta shook her head. "I . . . don't know. I hadn't thought about it."  
"Well you can't marry the priest without one." He stood up and headed for the door. "Nothing more to say, is there? Just let me know what you want to do. I won't fight it."  
Assumpta got up and followed him to the door. "Leo . . . " She paused. "I'm sorry . . . "  
"Me too." For a moment he looked at her, then he reached out and took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. Assumpta hugged him back, sobbing into his shoulder.. After a long moment, Leo broke away and opened the door.  
"You know . . . " he turned to face her again. "I always loved you. I never stopped."  
She nodded sadly. "I know."

From across the road, Niamh watched Leo get into his car and, after a last look back at the pub he drove off. He was crying, she was sure he was. She backed the buggy out of the door and slammed it behind her, marching over to Fitzgerald's.  
"Assumpta?" she called softly. There was no answer, but from the kitchen, Niamh could hear muffled sobs. She parked Kieran by the bar and went through. Assumpta was sitting at the table, her head in her arms. Niamh pulled up a chair and sat beside her.  
"Come on . . . it's all right," she said soothingly.. Assumpta lifted her head slowly from the table and looked at Niamh, shaking her head. "It's not all right . . . It's a mess. I've hurt him terribly." She broke down again and Niamh took her in her arms, rocking her gently.  
Peter, coming into the bar, heard the sobs and went through into the kitchen. Niamh saw him over Assumpta's shoulder and wordlessly shook her head, motioning for him to leave them for a while. Peter took the hint and went back into the bar to talk to Kieran. He took him out of the buggy and sat him on his knee.  
"What do you think, Kieran? Is she changing her mind? She did love him once, maybe she still does . . . ."  
In the kitchen, Assumpta's sobs had subsided and she was much calmer. Niamh handed her a cold cloth and she dabbed at her swollen eyes, trying to calm them down.  
"God, I look a mess."  
"You sure do." Niamh looked at her with concern. "So, what did Leo have to say?"  
"Not a lot. That was what was so awful. I thought he'd go mad, but he seemed so resigned to it. I felt so bad for him . . . for what I've done to him."  
"Did you talk about divorce?"  
"He said he wouldn't fight it, whatever I decided." She sniffed again. "Peter has asked me to marry him."  
Niamh was surprised. "That was quick."  
"Well, not really. It has taken him three years . . ."  
"Well, congratulations." Niamh hugged her. "I am happy for you. I just want you to do whatever you want, whatever will make you happy."  
Assumpta smiled and looked at Peter in the bar, singing silly songs to Kieran. "He does."

In the small hours of the following morning, Peter was standing in his favourite spot on the bridge looking out over the river. He hadn't been able to sleep, thinking about the day's events. Assumpta had been upset by Leo's visit. He understood that, of course, but he felt cheated. They should have been happy today of all days, but instead, she was more miserable than ever.  
"You won't drown yourself in there. It's far too shallow." Peter spun round to see Assumpta standing behind him with Fionn on the lead.  
"Assumpta! It's 1am . . . What are you . . . ?"  
"I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking about everything. I also think I owe you an apology."  
"Me? What for?" Peter turned away from the bridge and walked alongside her.  
"For being so distant tonight. I mean, it's not every day you leave the priesthood and get engaged. I shouldn't have been so selfish."  
"You weren't being selfish. But, there's no point going over what happened with Leo. It's done now. You can't change it. All we can do is look forward and try to make the best of it."  
"I know . . . it's not easy, that's all."  
Peter watched her carefully. "You still love him, don't you?"  
Assumpta shook her head. "Not in the way you mean . . . but yes, I do care about him very much. That's what makes it so hard. He was a good friend, and I used him. That's the hardest thing to deal with."  
"Did you come to any agreements . . . about what the two of you are going to do?"  
Assumpta shrugged. "He seemed to accept it, said that he'd go along with whatever I wanted. I guess I'll have to divorce him" She slipped her arm through Peter's suddenly brightening. "But, enough. We have far better things to talk about."  
Peter smiled, happy again. "Yes, we can start to think about what sort of wedding we want . . . who we're going to invite."  
"Hey, hold it there." Assumpta stopped. "Do you honestly think that anyone round here is going to come to our wedding?" She looked amazed. "I mean, once they find out that I've corrupted the golden boy and led him away from his calling, they're never going to want to talk to me again."  
Peter didn't agree. "I think you misjudge them. You've got a lot more friends here than you seem to realise. They'll come round. It may take time, but we'll get there."  
"Kathleen'll never speak to me again"  
"Kathleen doesn't speak to you now!"  
Assumpta smiled. "I guess not." They had arrived back at the pub.  
Assumpta took out her keys. "Well, home sweet home." She looked at Peter who was wrestling with his conscience. "Are you coming in?"  
He shook his head slowly. This time, he didn't feel that could trust himself. "I'd better not . . . " He leaned forward and kissed her. "I'll see you tomorrow. G'night"  
"Night." Assumpta kissed him back and turned to let herself into the pub.  
A few yards down the road, Peter stopped as he heard the door slam shut. "Who am I fooling?" he asked himself. "This is crazy." He turned and walked briskly back to the pub and let himself in.

Early the following morning, Kathleen Hendley opened the door of her shop and started to bring in the newspapers that were lying in a small bundle on the step. She wasn't in the best of moods - the shop seemed to be doing less business than ever, thanks to the new supermarket in Cilldargan and she really didn't know how much longer she could carry on selling postcards to tourists - not that there were many of those. She was reluctant to give up the place though. Her choice of career suited her - the local shop was as good a source for gossip as the pub.  
At the thought of Assumpta, her mood darkened. She was still smarting over her run in with the women's group - she hadn't come out of that very well and she didn't like being made to feel stupid by a mere slip of a girl, especially one as troublesome as Miss Fitzgerald . . . no, Mrs McGarvey. That was a joke. The marriage hadn't lasted more than five minutes. But then, what could you expect from a woman with no respect for anything, not even the church.  
Now, there was something interesting going on there. Kathleen attended Mass every day and hadn't missed the fact that Fr MacAnally had taken every Mass for the last fortnight - he had said something about Fr Clifford taking a break, but she knew there was more to it than that. If only she knew what it was . .  
As she brought in a crate of milk, she was distracted by the sound of a door slamming. Fr Clifford was heading off over the bridge. Kathleen was puzzled. "Where had he come from at this hour?" She looked up and down the street but she could see no other signs of life, except for Assumpta at her bedroom window. Kathleen nodded to herself and went back inside her shop.  
At the window, Assumpta stared down at the shop doorway in dismay. That was it, she thought. There was no going back now. Within 24 hours, everyone in Wicklow would know exactly what was going on.

Kathleen was on better form than Assumpta had given her credit for. By lunch time, there was only one topic of conversation in Ballykissangel - Assumpta and the priest. At some point during the day, many of the town's residents passed through the local shop, if only for a pint of milk and Kathleen wasted no time in bringing them up to date with the latest. Assumpta Fitzgerald, a married woman had seduced the priest. He had been thrown out of the church and was living in sin with Assumpta at the pub. She had enough gossip to keep her going for months and she could hardly contain herself when Fr Mac came into the shop for his newspaper.  
"Terrible business Father."  
"I'm sorry?" He glanced over at her, frowning slightly.  
"Fr . . . Mr Clifford, and Assumpta Fitzgerald. Mind you, what can you expect from her. And he, only a young lad from England . . . "  
She stared. She wasn't quite getting feedback that she expected. "What do you think, Father MacAnally?"  
"I think, Kathleen, that we should try to be a little more understanding, like the true Christian souls that we are." He put his money down on the counter and walked out of the shop, leaving Kathleen speechless.

That afternoon, Father Mac poured himself a drink and settled down into his armchair. He had a difficult task ahead of him, trying to organise cover for St Joseph's until a replacement curate could be found, but he couldn't concentrate. His mind seemed full of things he hadn't thought about for a long time. He was brought to by the sound of loud, insistent knocking at his front door. After a long moment of hoping that whoever it was would go away, he went to answer it. To his confusion, he found Assumpta Fitzgerald standing on the doorstep.  
He sighed. He really didn't feel in the mood for an argument at the moment. "Assumpta . . . " he said wearily, "what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you? Don't tell me. You've finally come to confess your sins and you didn't think the church would be open long enough." Assumpta didn't flinch. She stared at him coldly. "What are you playing at?"  
"Would you like to come in?"  
"I want to know what's going on." She insisted.  
Fr Mac led the way into his study. "I don't know what you mean."  
"I've been hearing strange rumours about you being suspiciously understanding where Peter and I are concerned."  
"You find that so hard to take?"  
"Yes, I know what you think of me. You've never been overly fond of Peter, so what's going on?"  
Fr Mac sat down. "I do understand what he was going through. I do have some feelings . . . "  
"Huh!"  
"I've been there."  
Assumpta's eyebrows nearly reached the ceiling. "What? You?"  
He nodded slowly. "Oh, I never quite had the courage to leave, at least, that's what I thought at the time. But I know the pain and anguish that Peter went through to reach his decision."  
Assumpta left her post by the door and sat down in the chair opposite. She had suddenly found herself faced with a very sad, very tired looking man and it had all become clear to her.  
"Nancy . . . " she said quietly, remembering the girl who had come to BallyK a few weeks before in search of her mother.  
"Yes."  
"She was your daughter?"  
Fr Mac nodded. "I don't know for sure, but I think so."  
Assumpta tried to think back, but she didn't remember anything about Nancy, or her mother, Eileen. She was only a couple of years older than Nancy so she was too young to remember. "What happened?"  
Fr Mac sighed deeply. "We were in love. She wanted me to leave the priesthood, but I couldn't. I didn't have the strength to go through with it, so she left and I lost her. I'll never forget that."  
"I'm sorry."  
"So am I." He sat forward and looked at her directly. "The church has lost a very good, decent priest, but he'll be happy, I hope. He wasn't happy in the priesthood, not for a long time."  
Assumpta nodded slowly. "No, he wasn't. That doesn't mean he isn't missing it though."  
"Will you do something? Not for me, but for Peter?"  
Assumpta's eyes widened. Fr Mac asking her for a favour. "What?"  
"He's a good man, and the church is important to him. Don't turn him against it. He can still be serve God."  
She nodded slowly. And stood up to go. "I wouldn't do that. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to. He'll come back to the church, when he's ready."

Back at Fitzgerald's, Peter was coping admirably . . . with the drinks anyway. He was having a bit more trouble handling the gossip that was making his ears burn. Everyone seemed to be talking about him. Not that he was surprised. It had only been a matter of time and they had managed to keep their secret for longer than he had expected. If he was honest, he was relived that they could now start to be more open about their relationship. He was fed up with hiding something that he felt so happy about, and he didn't relish the thought of slipping away from the pub in the mornings. He looked around the bar. The usual three suspects were propping up one end, Eamonn was in the corner nursing a diet coke and Liam and Donal were sitting gloomily contemplating the afternoon's work that was ahead of them. Peter leaned on the bar.  
"Are you all right there Fath . . . Peter?" Siobhan looked at him with concern.  
"I'm . . . fine, Siobhan."  
"It's all true then? Well, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it?" Peter was surprised. "You knew?"  
"Everybody did. We're not blind you know. The electricity level soared wherever you two happened to be."  
Peter laughed. "You just can't hide anything round here."  
"You're learning. Where's Assumpta?"  
"I don't know. She took off earlier, said she had something to sort out. I haven't seen her since."  
"How is she?"  
"Tired. I don't know how she's going to handle all the gossip. She's not the most patient of people."  
"She'll be fine. Hasn't she a big strong man to look after her now?"

At last, after a busy lunchtime, Peter shut the doors behind the last of the afternoon drinkers and went into the kitchen. He poured himself a coffee and sat down at the table, exhausted.  
"Slacker." Assumpta kissed the top of his head, then sat down opposite him. "How did you get on?"  
"Well, I think I did okay. The bar is still in one piece. Where did you disappear to?"  
"Ah, I'll tell you later. I did call in to see my solicitor though."  
"And?"  
"Well, he had a few interesting thoughts. It seems that we could be eligible for an annulment."  
"On what grounds?" Peter wasn't sure he wanted to follow this line of enquiry. The less he knew about Leo's relationship with her, the better.  
"The fact that we were together for such a short time . . . the circumstances . . . you . . . If we are prepared to go to court and explain exactly what happened, then the judge might be prepared to agree that the marriage should never have taken place. Unsound mind and all that."  
She saw his doubtful expression. "Look, Peter, I know that this goes against everything that you believe in, but if this is possible we would be talking months instead of up to five years. We would have to wait so long to be together otherwise. And it's not as if it didn't happen."  
Peter nodded. "I know. I don't want to wait that long. I don't want to wait at all. We'll do whatever we have to. I suppose all of this will have to happen in England?"  
"Well, that's where we were married. Why? Is that a problem?"  
"No . . . it's just . . . I can't really go back to England without going home, not after everything that's happened these past couple of weeks, but I was hoping that I could leave it about 30 years before telling my brothers."  
"They won't approve then?"  
"Oh, they won't mind. They've spent the last 10 years trying to persuade me to throw in the towel and find myself a nice girl. They're going to get great mileage out of this one. I can hear the 'I-told-you-so's from here.  
Assumpta laughed. "Never mind Peter. If they give you too much trouble, I'll sort them out for you."  
"I wouldn't wish that on anyone," said Peter, ducking as a tea towel came heading towards him.

Peter closed the overhead locker and took his seat. Beside him, Assumpta was leafing through the in-flight magazine, trying in vain to find an article that wasn't written for the bored businessman. Peter strapped himself in.  
"I hate flying."  
"You're not scared??!" teased Assumpta. "I don't believe it!"  
"No." Peter was embarrassed. "I'm not scared. I just don't like it. " He took a deep breath as he watched the landscape fly past as the aeroplane picked up speed on the runway. "I'm glad this is only a short flight . . . " He looked over at Assumpta who was staring out of the tiny window. "You okay?"  
Assumpta nodded wordlessly. Peter took her hand and held it tight. He could see she was crying.  
"You're not having second thoughts . . . ?"  
"No," Assumpta shook her head violently. "It's just . . . every time I leave Ireland, it's always complicated . . . " She stopped. "It's so beautiful . . ."  
Peter looked over her head at the rapidly shrinking countryside. There was nothing but uneven green patches as far as the eye could see.  
Suddenly he understood how she felt. He felt a pang of sadness and he had only been there a couple of years. Assumpta had lived there all her life.  
"But it's different this time, isn't it?"  
"Not really, not in some ways. Last time I made this flight to London, I didn't think I would ever go back to Ireland. I have that same feeling now, like this is the end of one part of my life. Only difference is, last time, I thought I'd lost you. This time you're with me."  
"And it's the start of a new life."  
"That's what I thought last time, when I went looking for Leo. I thought I had sorted everything out in my head and that I had left Ireland for good. Now, I just don't think we'll ever go back. Things are too difficult for us there."  
Peter shook his head. "I don't believe that. Don't worry. We'll be back…"


End file.
